


brad/nate - christmas/hanukkah

by romanticalgirl



Series: pick-a-fic [2]
Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 11:57:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally posted 11-12-09</p>
    </blockquote>





	brad/nate - christmas/hanukkah

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 11-12-09

“I hope you know I’m not buying you eight presents.”

Brad doesn’t bother to look up from his laptop. “You know what’s sad? We had eight days. Eight glorious days and you Judeo-Christian scam artists couldn’t handle it, so you had to come up with the 12 fucking days of Christmas. Can’t be outdone, can you?”

“I don’t expect 12 presents, if that helps.”

“No shit. Where the fuck are you going to put maids a milking, lords a leaping, drummers drumming, and pipers piping?” He shakes his head and types something into his computer. “Not to mention, your apartment manager would shit herself and fine you some exorbitant amount of a pet deposit if you brought home fucking turtledoves.”

“I’m thinking four calling birds might be worse.”

“Besides.” Brad finally looks up and there’s a sketch of a smile on his lips. “You hate pears.” He takes the package next to him and tosses it to Nate. “Here. There aren’t any fucking swans or geese, but whatever.”

Nate smiles and opens the small box. Inside there’s a note written in Brad’s precise handwriting. “Go to the refrigerator?” He sets the box down and gives Brad a look then gets up, going into the kitchen. 

“Bring me a beer.”

There’s a sound of wrinkling paper. “Fuck you.”

“Nice. You going to say thanks for Christmas dinner with that mouth?”

“That would be the same mouth I suck you off with, Colbert.”

Brad laughs once, a soft bark. “Point.”

“Go to your office.” Nate makes a noise and comes out of the kitchen, tossing Brad a beer. Brad catches it easily without really looking, though he does glance up as Nate walks past into the office. “I’ve been here all morning, Brad. How the hell did you do this?”

“Must have been Santa.”

“You don’t believe in Santa.” 

“Santa’s a fucking pedophile. Ask Ray.”

Nate comes out with a long, thin box. “Is this a dildo?”

“Why? You need one? I’ll let your mom know. She was asking what she should get you.”

Nate opens the box and pulls out another note, reading it aloud. “You suck at this. Fucking civilian. If you were still in the Marines, you’d have found where you were being led by now.” He gives Brad a look. “Thanks, honey.”

“You’re welcome, snookums.” He takes a pull of his beer and jerks his head toward the front door. Nate raises an eyebrow and goes over, opening the door. There’s a box on the doorstep and Nate glances back at Brad before lifting off the lid.

“You…got me a motorcycle helmet.” Nate pulls it out of the box and looks it over. It’s top of the line, just like Brad’s, and Nate can tell by looking at it that it’s custom made. He’s about to say thank you when he flips it over and there’s another note on the inside curve of the helmet. “Thanks for thinking I’m a cheap fuck. I love you too.” He glances at Brad and then back at the note. “Take two steps forward, one step to the right and look down.”

Nate follows the instructions and glances down, an unobstructed view of the carport. Brad’s bike gleams in the early morning sun, nearly as much as the nearly identical bike next to it. “You got me a bike.”

Brad’s body presses warmly to the back of Nate’s. “Merry Christmas.”

“This makes my gift of imported beer look really cheap in comparison.”

“You can make it up to me with blowjobs.” 

Nate glances back down at the bike. “Lots of blowjobs.”

Brad pulls away, catching Nate’s hand and tugging him back in the apartment. “You’re right. We’d better get started.”


End file.
